


Always and Forever

by Callista (Slytherin_To_Insanity)



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Eventual Romance, Historical Inaccuracy, Immortal!Seonghwa, Immortality, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Language, Time Travel, Time Traveler!Hongjoong, but nothing explicit, light coffeeshop!au, light prohibition!au, like two swear words, mentions of other Kpop idols, mentions of other ateez members
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28546683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slytherin_To_Insanity/pseuds/Callista
Summary: The first time they meet is in a shady tavern, in a time when electricity does not yet exist. Hongjoong nurses a tankard of lukewarm mead, smiling politely but disinterestedly at the pretty maids who try to catch his attention, when the door opens and in sweeps a–Well, Hongjoong is interested now.Based on the prompt, "a friendship between a time traveler and an immortal. Wherever the time traveler ends up, the immortal is there to catch him up to speed".
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 24
Kudos: 109





	Always and Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there, thanks for clicking! This is my first ATEEZ fic and first attempt at writing romance, hope you like it!

The first time they meet is in a shady tavern, in a time when electricity does not yet exist. Hongjoong nurses a tankard of lukewarm mead, smiling politely but disinterestedly at the pretty maids who try to catch his attention, when the door opens and in sweeps a–

Well, Hongjoong is interested now.

The man looks like a prince, a regal air about him despite robes that clearly define him as a simple commoner. His hair is dark as the stormy night and damp from the rain, with eyes piercing like lightning, as if he could draw blood with only a glare. When those eyes turn on Hongjoong, they steal his breath instead. It feels as if they lock gazes for an eternity.

There is more than one wistful sigh to be heard in the tavern as the stranger approaches Hongjoong like a lion stalking his prey, taking a seat without invitation. “By all means, please have a seat,” Hongjoong murmurs, unable to keep a playful smirk off his face. The man chuckles, the sound warm and low. He wants to hear that sound, again and again, preferably in a dark room against his skin. Hongjoong has always been weak for pretty men with sharp eyes, and this stranger is no different.

“My apologies for my lack of manners, my thoughts were taken by an angel,” the man laughs. In the dim tavern light, his eyes sparkle beautifully, no longer so fierce.

“An angel?” Hongjoong hums in thought, pretending to be outraged. “If you would kindly direct me to this angel, I shall steal your thoughts back for you, so that I alone may hear them.” Not his most clever response, but it garners another sweet smile all the same.

“I can assure you, you shall be privy to them for the meager price of your name.”

“Hongjoong,” he breathes, utterly captivated. “My name is Hongjoong.”

“Hongjoong,” the man whispers, the word spoken like a prayer upon plush lips. “I am Seonghwa.”

They do not speak much after that, slipping away upstairs to Hongjoong’s room in the candlelight. There are soft lips kissing his and rough hands burning with desire on his hips and Hongjoong has never wanted so much. It feels like a dragon has made its way into his chest, searing hot and ready to claim what is so eagerly offered, nipping marks into Seonghwa’s skin just to hear him gasp.

When they fall into bed, sleepy and sated, the burning in his chest fades to a gentle warmth but refuses to go away. Seonghwa draws patterns into his skin with his thumb, pressing kisses to Hongjoong’s neck, biceps, anywhere he can reach, beautiful nonsense dripping from his lips. He hears Seonghwa’s breathing slow as he falls asleep, and pulls himself out of his long arms delicately.

Once fully dressed, Hongjoong looks back at the sleeping form with regret. It was selfish of him to indulge, but he cannot stay. Already he feels the inevitable pull of Time on his soul, urging him to leave this time and place behind.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, the words hanging heavy in the silent room. It’s a good thing he only paid for one night, he thinks. He doesn’t let himself think about the last words Seonghwa said to him, a gentle plea slipping out in his half-asleep daze. He _doesn’t_. Instead, he lets Time sweep him away.

_Stay with me._

When Seonghwa wakes, there will be no evidence the other man ever existed.

***

The next time is completely accidental. Hongjoong was running from an irate shopkeeper who had (completely mistakenly) caught him flirting with her husband – as if he would ever flirt with a taken man! Still, she was relentless, and Hongjoong had dashed into a small shop around the corner hoping to lose her.

The bell chimes in protest as he slams the door behind him, ducking behind a display of – are those flowers? He lets out a sigh of relief as the woman passes the shop without even a suspicious glare, and finally takes in his surroundings.

It looks like an herbalist’s store – what he thought were flowers were indeed sprigs of dried lavender and rose petals, and he spots sage and willow bark on the display as well. “Welcome–” The owner chokes.

Funny how a simple word can feel like a punch to the gut. Hongjoong hardly breathes as he turns around, meeting eyes that are every bit as intense as he remembered.

“ _Hongjoong_?” Seonghwa’s eyes are blown wide with shock. He’s beautiful as ever, his face just as handsome as Hongjoong remembers…

He's staring like a fool, he knows, but how can he help himself? Seonghwa's eyes have haunted him for ages as he leapt through time and space, the smoldering glare of it seared into his very soul. A beat of heavy silence falls between them - Seonghwa is staring too, expression full of disbelief and wonder.

Perhaps belatedly, Hongjoong realizes something. “Wait. You’re alive?”

 _There was probably a better way to say that_ , he winces. Seonghwa seems to agree, his shock giving way to anger. “ _Me_? Why are _you_ alive?”

It’s worth mentioning that a long time has passed since they last met – long enough that Seonghwa should either be dead or extremely wrinkled, of which he is neither. No, he is somehow even more gorgeous, smooth skin utterly untouched by the cruelty of Time, eyes still a deep chocolate brown, lips pink and full and god Hongjoong wants to see something other than contempt in his expression.

He deserves it though. He knows he does.

Seonghwa is still glaring at him, waiting for an answer. “You’re an Immortal, aren’t you?” Hongjoong guesses, knowing he’s got it right when Seonghwa’s anger melts into something like fear.

Hongjoong has only met one other Immortal, a man named Eden who lived briefly in the village, before Hongjoong became a Traveler. Eden had been old, older than Hongjoong could imagine, but when he smiled his entire being looked young again. He’d left before Hongjoong had turned eighteen, promising that they would meet someday in the future.

Hongjoong hadn’t seen him since. “I am,” Seonghwa answers, eyes flickering around his shop nervously. He had every right to be afraid – Immortals weren’t common, as Hongjoong had learned from Eden, and they always tried to stay undiscovered for as long as they could in case someone tried to burn them alive. “Are you–”

“No, I’m not,” Hongjoong immediately says. “I’m a Traveler.”

Seonghwa doesn’t look surprised. “Ah. Of course. And you just… happened to travel into my shop?”

Hongjoong smiles sheepishly. “Well, I was actually running from a woman who thought she caught me flirting with her husband. I ducked in here to hide from her – I didn’t – I had no idea you would be in this time. You look beautiful,” he blurts.

Seonghwa looks taken aback by the sudden compliment, still clearly suspicious and off-balance. “...You too.”

Hongjoong gestures vaguely and helplessly at the shop. “It’s uh… that’s a nice... plant...”

“I’m an apothecary,” Seonghwa interrupts, likely an attempt at saving him from further embarrassment. It doesn’t work; Hongjoong can offer him nothing but a clueless nod. “An apothecary… I sell herbal remedies? Have you never heard of this word?”

“I’m not sure I was around when the word was created,” Hongjoong admits. “This whole time is rather confusing to me.”

Seonghwa nods, seemingly considering something. “If you like,” he says hesitantly, “I could help answer any questions you might have.”

Hongjoong knows it’s a bad idea. _No thank you_ , he’s supposed to say. _I can’t get more attached to you._ “That would be lovely,” his traitorous mouth says instead. “I could help at your shop in return?”

There’s a fair bit of awkwardness left between them, and a lot of unanswered questions, but they fall into an easy rhythm soon enough. Seonghwa is still witty and intelligent and patient, and Hongjoong soaks up the missed years like a sponge under his guidance. His days consist of going out to explore the time, grinding herbs into powder for Seonghwa’s medicines, and history lessons from Seonghwa after dinner. At night they both read by themselves for a bit, with the occasional chat or tea break. And after…

They don’t talk much about the _after_. Not when morning comes and they wake up in each other’s arms, crammed together on Seonghwa’s tiny bed meant for one person. Not when Seonghwa sighs and, still happily fuzzy from sleep, pulls Hongjoong closer without any resistance. Not when Hongjoong presses feather-light kisses onto Seonghwa’s shoulder or hands.

It’s… more peace than Hongjoong has felt for a while. His chest aches pleasantly every time he glances at Seonghwa, engaged in lively conversation with a customer – It doesn’t take a genius for him to know he feels something deeper than friendship for the taller man.

The only thing holding him back from falling, from _drowning_ in Seonghwa, is Time.

And Time, he learns, is cruel indeed.

He learns this when he feels the tug in his gut while Seonghwa is in the kitchen cooking dinner, three months after Hongjoong has dropped back into his life. Hongjoong opens his mouth, about to shout something to Seonghwa –

and in another instant he’s gone, and Hongjoong is in another unfamiliar time. He shoves the memory of Seonghwa away again, tucking it into a box he’ll keep locked in the back of his mind.

 _I didn’t even say goodbye_.

***

The third time, Hongjoong really, truly, did not expect it. Hongjoong has been in this time longer now, and he’s got himself a job singing in underground parlors – speakeasies, they’re called.

It’s the _tiniest_ bit illegal, but really, this country is insane for outlawing _alcohol_ of all things. Besides, no prison would hold Hongjoong for long.

He’s sort of friendly with his pianist, who is a jumpy guy with too wide of a smile and eyes that flit about nervously but whose fingers fly across the keys like no other. Other than that, there’s no one that Hongjoong really talks to besides the parlour owner and the bartender.

It’s lonely, but he’s used to this by now. He can’t afford to be attached, not like he was with –

The thought goes into his mental box, and Hongjoong adds another lock to it for good measure.

Tonight he’s singing again, and disaster has struck.

“Joong, Felix can’t make it tonight, his sister’s got some emergency,” the owner tells him. “But don’t you worry, Solar’s pianist is free tonight and agreed to come in early so you two can run the set together. Ah, here he comes!”

This really can’t be happening, not again. Hongjoong wants to cry and laugh at the sheer coincidence of it all, but he just stands there, frozen stiff as he meets Seonghwa’s sparkling eyes once again, a smile half-formed on his lovely face.

The world goes quiet as they stare at each other. Hongjoong sees shock fade into tired resignation in Seonghwa’s eyes, and he wants to yell _no, stop, smile at me again_ –

“Joong, this is Hwa. Hwa, Joong; thanks again for coming in tonight, Hwa.” The owner’s voice is too loud and shatters the moment. It takes immense effort for Joong to tear his gaze away from ‘Hwa’. “There’s enough time to run the set once, so hop to it!”

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong manages to say after the owner leaves them. “I–”

“We don’t have time for this,” Seonghwa mutters. “We’ll start with ‘Twilight’, then?” He’s already striding towards the piano – curse his long legs, Hongjoong thinks as he trots to catch up.

“Uh, sure – look, Seonghwa–”

“I have a job to do,” the pianist says stiffly. “If you want to talk, we’ll do so after the set.” Without another word he unfolds the sheet music delicately, and begins to warm up.

Hongjoong is still reeling from the unexpected encounter, so many questions swarming in his head. _Seonghwa is here? He plays piano? How did we manage to meet again?_

And most pressing of all, _how does he still look so beautiful?_

They finally start to practice the set, and Hongjoong realizes: if he thought Felix’s fingers flew over the keys, then Seonghwa’s _dance_. The notes sound more grounded under his hands, but still airy enough to feel elegant; it’s graceful and heavenly and the songs sound even more beautiful with his playing. Each note is played with intention and emotion, matching Hongjoong’s energy perfectly but not overtaking his voice in any way. No wonder he’s Solar’s pianist, Hongjoong thinks. No other pianist could possibly match her powerful voice.

They don’t speak other than a quick debrief of their practice until late that night, when Hongjoong is soothing his throat with a cocktail. It has honey in it, he reasons.

He’s definitely not drinking because he needs the courage to face Seonghwa again.

“Buy me a drink,” the man whispers in Hongjoong’s ear, dropping into the seat beside him.

 _Anything you want,_ Hongjoong thinks. “Why should I?” He scoffs instead, because his thoughts are a little too desperate and needy.

Seonghwa’s eyes narrow. “Because I, unlike you, am stuck here and I need all the money I can get. I’m sure your income is far more disposable, so put it to good use and buy me something nice.” The last part sounds almost joking, but his tone is too sharp, too biting.

The Traveler winces – he’s right though, Hongjoong’s hard-earned money will likely be useless once he leaves this time. He orders the fruitiest, most elaborate thing on the limited menu for Seonghwa, and watches his eyebrows raise in the tiniest hint of excitement.

 _Cute_.

“I didn’t know you would be here,” Seonghwa says after downing half his drink. “I’m surprised we haven’t met before this, honestly. Who would’ve guessed that we’d end up working for the same speakeasy?”

Hongjoong laughs helplessly, because when he thinks about it, it really does seem like a giant cosmic joke. “I only started a month ago, and I work Tuesdays only. Solar works weekends right?”

They chat a little longer before Hongjoong, tipsy on moonshine and drunk off Seonghwa’s laughter, blurts out, “I’m really sorry.”

Seonghwa pauses, distracted from his story about Solar and her girlfriend who comes every night just to watch her sing. “For what?”

“For leaving. For not being able to say goodbye last time. For showing up out of nowhere...”

Seonghwa frowns. “I… I forgive you, Hongjoong, but it’s not really your fault. I would have appreciated a farewell, of course, but… you’re a Traveler. It’s just who you are. Honestly, it’s… nice, to see a familiar face once in a while. I don’t know many other Immortals, so… I appreciate you dropping into my life.” He sighs, but offers Hongjoong a genuine smile anyway. “Even if it’s unexpected, and a little jarring when you leave.”

It’s a more gracious response than Hongjoong expected, and he wants to cry with relief. He plants a sloppy kiss onto Seonghwa’s cheek instead, laughing at his expression.

He stops laughing when the scene vanishes and Hongjoong lands in another time.

Time is cruel, and he never forgets that fact.

***

The fourth time is at a nightclub. There are sleazy men everywhere trying to paw at Hongjoong but he ignores them all – he’s here to have fun _by_ _himself_ , thank you, and he’s determined to enjoy his night no matter what.

That plan goes out the window when he spots a familiar silhouette on the dance floor, pressed up against a shorter brunette.

Hongjoong almost doesn’t recognize him – his hair is now platinum blond, for one, but what makes his mouth go dry is Seonghwa’s eyes when he turns around.

They’re blue and a little plastic (contacts, Hongjoong thinks), but still so scorching and magnetic and the next thing Hongjoong knows, he’s face to face with those gorgeous eyes.

“Hongjoong.” Seonghwa looks wary but unsurprised this time, even though it’s been nearly eighty years since they last saw each other. “Long time no see.”

“Seonghwa,” he says, suddenly a little nervous. They’d left on good terms – well, as good as you could with someone who could vanish at any given moment. But here Seonghwa was, dressed in a crimson button-down and a _lace choker_ , with an arm wrapped around another man.

 _That should be me_ , Hongjoong thinks reflexively. He blinks at the sudden thought, chased away when the brunette speaks.

“Hongjoong, was it? I’m Yeosang, nice to meet you!” The other man smiles shyly at Hongjoong, a hand extended for him to…

It’s a bit odd to do so in a club, but Hongjoong bends at the waist and kisses it anyway, not understanding why Yeosang’s cheeks bloom bright red at the action.

Seonghwa on the other hand only rolls his eyes. “He meant for you to shake his hand, Hongjoong, not kiss it. Now he’ll think you’re a shameless flirt.”

“Oh,” he says. It must be a time thing, he realizes. Then, smirking, “I’m sure I’m no less shameless than you are,” just to watch Seonghwa splutter with indignation.

Yeosang laughs, and that’s apparently enough of an introduction for the man to feel friendly enough to buy them all a round of drinks.

Yeosang is Seonghwa’s roommate (and best friend), Hongjoong learns. The two met in a college math class and hit it off instantly, bonding over mutual confusion and hatred of the subject. They are not, in fact, _together_ ; Yeosang is adamant on this. They dance together so strangers don’t try anything at clubs, and it works for most instances.

Then comes the dreaded question. “So, how did you two meet?”

“Uhh...” Hongjoong stammers, panicked eyes meeting Seonghwa’s.

“We met at a club, awhile ago. During my freshman year,” Seonghwa says smoothly.

“You mean you had a life before we met? How dare you,” Yeosang teases. Metaphorical bullet dodged, Yeosang doesn’t ask anymore hard questions.

He does, however, _inconveniently_ have to leave early to go tend to his other best friend Wooyoung, who is apparently drunk and in dire need of fried chicken. “You two stay and dance, I _insist_ ,” Yeosang says with a devilish grin. “Don’t wait up for me, Seonghwa.”

Well, who is Hongjoong to deny him?

Except that means he’s alone with Seonghwa, trying to drag his treacherous eyes away from the choker that seems to hug his slim neck just right–

When he finally gets a grip, Hongjoong realizes that Seonghwa is watching him back with the same hunger.

It’s a good thing Yeosang stays over at Wooyoung’s instead.

Hongjoong sneaks out of the apartment at four in the morning after leaving an apology note on Seonghwa’s bedside table, following Time’s pull on his body. He feels like shit, and not just from the hangover.

It’s almost a relief when Time finally tugs him away.

And yet…

All he can think about is Seonghwa.

***

The fifth time, they meet in a café.

Hongjoong is here for coffee, because it is a blessed substance that has kept him going these past five months – the longest he’s ever been in one time – when he meets those eyes again.

Seonghwa smiles tightly at him, his eyes still tired and cold as he takes Hongjoong’s order. “I’m off at five,” the Immortal says unexpectedly.

It’s an olive branch, and Hongjoong clings to it all day long.

He works on his poetry for hours, stealing far too many glances at Seonghwa behind the counter and feeling the weight of the barista’s gaze in return. Time feels like molasses, and Hongjoong is selfishly impatient.

Selfish, because he has no right to keep butting into Seonghwa’s life like this. He has no right to want more than these initially-awkward meetings, where they tread on eggshells until someone breaks and they end up rolling around in bed–

Alright, that last part he’s more than fine with. But he wishes, more than anything, that he could stay in the moments after.

He remembers the second time they met, when they lived together for a few months. It was a lifetime ago for both of them, but the memories are vivid in his mind. Hongjoong misses the feeling of waking up to Seonghwa, and he can’t help but long for it again.

It’s so, so unfair to both of them.

He waits for Seonghwa to approach, and they walk along the quiet street silently for a bit, both a little tense, a little awkward, too much to say and too little time.

“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong says. Seonghwa looks at him in shock, shaking his head.

“Why are you sorry? For leaving?” At Hongjoong’s nod, the Immortal smiles wryly. “I knew what I was getting into, spending the night with you again. It’s not your fault, I know. At least you left a note this time,” he chuckles, but it sounds forced and tight.

 _If it’s not my fault, why are your eyes so tired when you look at me?_ Hongjoong wants to ask, but he bites the words back.

“You look beautiful,” Hongjoong says sincerely instead. Seonghwa grins shyly, averting his gaze.

“You say that every time,” a small smile playing on his lips.

“I mean it every time. You’re stunning, Seonghwa.”

A blush works its way up Seonghwa’s cheeks, and Hongjoong kind of wants to kiss it away. But that’s selfish, and so he banishes the thought.

“I’ve been in this time for five months,” he rambles, trying to fill the air between them before he acts on his foolish desires. “I’ve only – I never knew you worked there, I swear. This is my first time at this café, it was recommended on Yelp –”

Seonghwa laughs, for real this time. “Ah, yes, the owner Jongho is pretty proud of that fact. You should try the apple tart next time, it’s a crowd favorite.”

Next time. So he’s being invited back to the café. Hongjoong agrees readily, eager for any chance to see Seonghwa more before remembering he’s not supposed to, he’ll just keep hurting them both.

But Seonghwa is looking at him with sparkling eyes again, no longer aching and resigned. He looks at Hongjoong like…

Well, like he loves him.

It’s heady and intoxicating and Hongjoong is drowning in Seonghwa, but he already knows pulling himself out is futile.

A month of Purely Platonic Friendship passes for them and Hongjoong learns that Seonghwa’s co-workers San and Mingi are devils, somehow always mysteriously busy when Hongjoong comes in so Seonghwa is the only one available to wait on him. He sees them snicker behind the counter, and more than once Hongjoong thinks he sees money exchange hands.

“Just ignore them,” Seonghwa tells him anytime Hongjoong complains, his expression fond but exasperated. “They never graduated from kindergarten.”

Indignant cries ring out from the two, and Hongjoong laughs.

“So,” Seonghwa says cryptically while refilling Hongjoong’s coffee for the third time.

Hongjoong raises an eyebrow. “So...”

“So, it’s my birthday today.”

He blinks. That was… not what Hongjoong expected him to say. “Oh! Happy birthday!” A thought occurs to him and he is gripped with panic. “Wait, why didn’t you tell me sooner? I don’t have a gift for you!”

The barista hums, as if in thought, completely oblivious to Hongjoong’s frantic worries. “You don’t have any plans tonight, do you?”

“...I don’t.”

Seonghwa beams at him. “How about we celebrate my birthday together once I’m off work? Just the two of us?”

Hongjoong would be delighted, but that sounds too close to Not Platonic and he’s trying so hard to keep his mind off that topic. They’ve only hung out as friends so far and rarely at night, when it would be too easy for Hongjoong to pull him close and bask in Seonghwa’s warmth. It’s the longest they’ve gone without falling into bed together, and Hongjoong is, for the most part, content to keep it this way. He’ll take Seonghwa in any capacity he is allowed.

He doesn’t know what to call it, this strange magnetic pull between them. Hongjoong knows Seonghwa feels it too, he must – there’s a reason he lets the Traveler stay even though he knows it ends with Hongjoong leaving. He hesitates to call it love, for this feels too deep, too constant for romance. But what else do you name a relationship that spans decades, centuries?

Hongjoong shoves the thoughts back into his mental box. “What about San and Mingi? Don’t you want to celebrate with them?”

Seonghwa shrugs. “I asked, but they both have plans already. Come on, it’ll be fun! There’s this movie I really want to see,” he wheedles. It would be annoying if he weren’t so cute.

“Alright,” Hongjoong gives in, as if he weren’t already leaping at the chance. “On one condition: I pay for everything.”

They agree to meet at the movie theater, so here Hongjoong is now, holding two tickets to How to Train Your Dragon and a bouquet of chicken nuggets. He would’ve gone with flowers, but he’s almost sure Seonghwa will appreciate the chicken more.

“Hongjoong!” Seonghwa calls, and he turns to wave at the birthday boy–

–and _god_ , he looks so dangerous here. Of all the outfits Hongjoong has seen Seonghwa in (or out of), this is the most ruthlessly tempting thing he could’ve worn: a creamy beige sweater that shows off his defined collarbones, tucked casually into tight black jeans, black hair mussed and slightly curled–

And to top it all off, a pair of round glasses rimmed with gold, making the warm brown of his eyes stand out even more.

It’s even more seductive than the red shirt and lace choker combo, and that’s saying something considering Hongjoong’s brain had nearly short-circuited at that.

Because Seonghwa doesn’t look like an ancient Immortal here. He doesn’t look like someone Hongjoong occasionally fools around with, doesn’t look like a tempting siren on the dancefloor calling to everyone and anyone in the club to observe his beauty.

No, he looks soft and fluffy… he looks like a boyfriend, like someone Hongjoong wants to tuck away and cherish forever and maybe make hot chocolate with as they cuddle under fairy lights and watch a meaningless Christmas movie with snow falling outside their window.

And that’s so dangerous, so risky, but Hongjoong can’t tear his eyes away from Seonghwa’s smile.

He can’t keep this. He can’t have Seonghwa like that, it’ll just hurt them both because he will always, always leave. He knows this, has known this for the past four times they’ve met, but Hongjoong just can’t help but imagine himself wrapped up in Seonghwa’s arms.

Later that week, Time drags him away again, and Hongjoong weeps as Seonghwa’s smile fades from view.

***

The sixth time, Seonghwa is still working at the café. Hongjoong learns that it’s only been a week since he’d left Seonghwa.

For him, it’s already been years.

Seonghwa doesn’t say anything when Hongjoong hugs him wordlessly, automatically holding him tight as if he’s trying to press comfort into every fiber of the weary Traveler’s being.

He’s never felt so grateful for the Immortal.

Hongjoong sits in the café until Seonghwa’s shift ends that night, dodging San and Mingi’s concerned and unsubtle glances as he sips a hot chocolate. They walk to Seonghwa’s place together – he’s only been there once, the night of Seonghwa’s birthday, when they shared the chicken nugget bouquet Hongjoong had bought and laughed about the movie.

Seonghwa still doesn’t ask, doesn’t treat Hongjoong with anything but tenderness, his voice soothing the Traveler with tales of grumpy pre-caffeine teens and awkward first dates at the café. Soon Hongjoong is snickering along, and Seonghwa’s eyes light up like fireworks in the night sky.

Hongjoong lets Seonghwa hold him in their sleep that night. He deserves to be a little selfish, he reasons, after many agonizing years without Seonghwa. Perhaps a decade has passed for him without the Immortal, and all Hongjoong could ever think about was how much he missed the other man. He tells Seonghwa all this, choking on the words but forcing them out anyway.

Seonghwa only kisses his forehead and tightens his embrace, nuzzling into Hongjoong’s neck. He’s never been more fond, and the warmth of it spreads through his entire chest.

It takes longer than Hongjoong thought it would for Seonghwa to ask about his past, but the questions come as they eat breakfast the next morning, Seonghwa shy but curious. How did he start Traveling? Does he ever visit the same time twice? Can he Travel at will?

He answers them all patiently.

It all started on his twenty-first birthday – Time spirited him away at midnight, after his parents had fallen asleep. He’d found himself in a city full of sparkling lights, and things that zoomed around faster than a horse could ever dream of.

It was difficult, realizing what had happened. Hongjoong had crossed paths with another Traveler one day by the name of Yunho, who’d helped answer a lot of questions and made Hongjoong feel much more at peace with what he was. Even so, Yunho hadn’t known why Travelers existed, or what made them special. The most valuable thing he learned from Yunho was how to adjust to the time, and how to get money and a roof over his head. They’d stayed together for nearly a month until Yunho was taken by Time, and they had not met again since.

As for the last two questions, no he has not visited the same time twice, and no he can’t travel at will.

“It feels like a tugging in my stomach,” he explains, “and the next thing I know I’m sometime new. It never hurts, but it gets uncomfortable.” Seonghwa hums in thought, processing the newfound knowledge.

There’s another question simmering in Seonghwa’s eyes though, Hongjoong can feel it. _Is there anyone else in your life like me? Do you hold anyone else like this?_

Like a coward, Hongjoong doesn’t bring it up, and Seonghwa doesn’t ask out loud. It still hangs in the air between them, stiff and unwilling to go away.

The truth is, there is no one remotely like Seonghwa that Hongjoong has ever met. No one else has such piercing eyes, eyes that have followed him through time and have gazed upon him with desire, anger, exasperation, joy–

No one else has ever talked with Hongjoong for more than a passing moment, and no one else has ever had him for longer than a night. He’s never even wanted to see someone for longer than that, not willing to risk getting attached. Everyone else he’s encountered has been temporary, but Seonghwa… he is permanent. Everlasting. Hongjoong can trust that he’ll always be there.

He swallows the guilt whispering that he can never do the same for the Immortal.

The first time they fight is… disastrous. Hongjoong can’t even remember how it started, just that they were eating tteokbokki on Seonghwa’s couch when the question comes, unexpected but inevitable.

“Would you still leave? If you didn’t have to?”

Hongjoong, in all his cowardice, doesn’t say what he really thinks. “I have to,” he reminds Seonghwa gently. _Never_ , his mind whispers.

It’s not an answer, not even remotely what Seonghwa’s searching for, and his lips press together in a thin line. “Right. Of course,” he laughs bitterly.

Hongjoong frowns, the carefree atmosphere vanishing like smoke through his fingers. “Is something wrong?”

Seonghwa shakes his head, pulling away from Hongjoong. “Nothing, nothing. I ought to know better than to expect a straight answer from you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hongjoong feels rightfully offended, still confused about what brought this on. Seonghwa had shown no signs of resentment at all – where was this ire coming from?

“I said it’s nothing!” Seonghwa snaps. “Leave me alone–”

“You started this, Seonghwa! What answer are you looking for?”

“I want the _truth_ from you, Hongjoong! I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want to leave!” Seonghwa glares from the other side of the couch, messy black hair falling into his eyes.

“Why? Why does it matter if I want to stay or not?”

“Because all you ever do is leave!” Seonghwa shouts. “All you ever do is leave me. From the first day we met until our last, you will always leave me alone in the cold. And like a fool, I’ll always be waiting for you, forever until my last breath.”

The words hit Hongjoong in the chest like a physical blow. “Seonghwa...”

The Immortal shakes his head. “I know it’s not your fault. I _know_ , Hongjoong, I told you ages ago that it was nice, seeing you through the years, but it hurts so damn much when you leave. I know you can’t help what you are, but… ” he takes in a shuddering breath, and Hongjoong is horrified to realize that he’s crying. “Hongjoong, I love you. Despite all the years that pass without seeing you, every time you manage to slide right back into my life like you never left and I’m so _happy_ you do.” He laughs a little helplessly, tears still rolling down his cheeks. “Immortality is… it’s so lonely. All the faces I see blend together, all of them forgettable and unimpressionable except yours. Maybe I’m just selfish, but I thought… I thought maybe you wanted this too. But I suppose it’s just wishful thinking. I’m sorry,” he sniffles, and Hongjoong’s heart breaks.

“Seonghwa...” The Traveler crawls over and holds Seonghwa in his arms, feeling him stiffen and relax hesitantly. “I thought I was being selfish, by coming back into your life again and again. I thought I had no right to you, so I’ve been keeping you at arms-length – I didn’t know you’ve been hurting all this time.” Hongjoong swallows his regret. “I don’t know what this is, but I’ve never felt for someone the way I do for you. You told me once that it’s nice to have someone who’s familiar – I guess for me, every time I see you, it feels like coming home. As much of a home as I can have, with the time travel and all. Knowing that you’re still here… it keeps me sane, Seonghwa. I’ve just spent nearly a decade without you, you know? It’s only been a week for you, but it’s been so long for me. All I could think about was how much I missed your smile.”

He looks at Seonghwa then, chest loosening from finally telling the truth, and sees watery but fond eyes looking back. “Hongjoong,” Seonghwa breathes, “I love you.”

The words are terrifying to Hongjoong, but he gives them life anyway. “I love you too, Seonghwa.”

Life becomes easier after that. They don’t talk about it again, but sometimes Seonghwa will hold him extra tight, or pepper his face with chaste kisses; sometimes Hongjoong burrows deeper into Seonghwa’s warmth and just breathes him in, devoting his scent to memory. They go on dates, and endure San and Mingi’s teasing together.

But nothing this good was meant to last.

***

When the tugging comes this time, Hongjoong is cuddled up to Seonghwa under a fluffy blanket. It’s winter now, which means he’s spent nearly a year with the Immortal. He grits his teeth and ignores Time – his favorite show is on, and he’s finally warm and full and Seonghwa is chortling and he’s so filled with love.

 _Love_. It’s something Hongjoong thought would be stolen from him, as it goes against the very nature of Traveling. He’s so, so glad he was wrong. Because what else could this feeling be other than love? What else could warm him up inside so completely besides Seonghwa’s laugh? What else could it be, stealing his breath away when Seonghwa looks at him with sparkling eyes like Hongjoong is the center of his world?

“Something wrong?” Seonghwa murmurs, and Hongjoong realizes he’s got the blanket bunched up under his fists to distract himself from the tugging.

“It’s nothing,” he lies, and snuggles closer into Seonghwa’s warmth, smiling at the low chuckle he elicits.

For once, Hongjoong stays.

***

In all his life, Hongjoong has never resisted Time before. To his surprise, the insistent tug fades until he can hardly feel it – but a week later, when Seonghwa is cooking, it pulls and it feels like a hot knife stabbing his gut.

“Seonghwa,” he gasps. “Seonghwa–”

“Hongjoong, what’s wrong?” The Immortal rushes to his side, their dinner abandoned on the stove.

“Seonghwa, I–” He’s cut off by another wave of pain, tearing through his abdomen like acid. “Ahhh! It’s Time, it’s trying to take me away again–”

“Hongjoong...” Seonghwa is crying now, eyes glassy with tears that drip onto the floor. Hongjoong falls forward into the Immortal’s arms, dizzy from trying to hold onto the time, trying to hold onto Seonghwa.

“I’m sorry, Seonghwa, I–” He swallows down another stab of pain. “I wish I were stronger...”

“It’s okay, Hongjoong. It’s okay. I know you’re trying – but you have to let go.“

He thinks he’s hearing things. Let go? Of Seonghwa? The only thing he’s ever fought Time for? “No, I’ll fight it, I’ll do better this time–”

“It’s hurting you, Hongjoong!” Seonghwa snaps, even as he holds Hongjoong a little tighter. “Please, I can’t see you in pain like this. Not for anything, not for me.”

“Seonghwa...”

“I’ll always be here, Hongjoong. I’ll always wait for you, until you come find me again. Always and forever.” Seonghwa’s voice is gentle and soothing but it cracks just a little, betraying the sorrow he must be feeling.

“I’ll always come back to you,” Hongjoong whispers. “Always and forever.”

“Let go, Hongjoong. Let go.” He presses a kiss into Hongjoong’s lips, soft and desperate. It’s almost enough to make Hongjoong keep fighting the pain, but he knows he can’t hold on any longer.

“I love you–”

“I love you–”

It’s the last thing they say before Time finally whisks the Traveler away, spitting him out somewhere ancient and dusty.

It echoes in Hongjoong’s mind. _I love you, I love you…_

He sits, and he waits until Time takes him away again.

He waits until he can find his way back to Seonghwa.

Always, and forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this piece! You can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/zhjl7) where I yell about Seonghwa and occasionally post theories!


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